


history books didn't mention this

by AngelicSigils



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hair Braiding, M/M, Pre-Movie(s), death mention, hair cuts, questionable life choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:45:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9100933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicSigils/pseuds/AngelicSigils
Summary: “i take it killing for money hasn’t paid as well as you hoped,” he spits, and baze closes his eyes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> first fic for rogue one and star wars in general! sorry it's not longer, i did my best. title is (sort of) from samson by regina spektor which is also what this fic is (sort of) based on. enjoy!!

“i do not understand why you want me to do this.”

baze sighs. “come on, it’s not that hard. you like touching my hair, anyway.” he doesn’t look at him, but he can tell chirrut is glaring.

“i’m blind!” he points out irritably, “why should i be the one to cut your hair? go to the barber, there’s a perfectly skilled one in town.” it’s late at night, and they’ve been arguing for hours.

“how would you know if he’s skilled?” baze asks, just to be contrary, “you can’t even see his work. besides, i won’t waste money we do not have on a simple thing such as a haircut.” he grabs chirrut’s wrist and tries to give him the scissors. chirrut makes a fist, and his knuckles turn white.

“i take it killing for money hasn’t paid as well as you hoped,” he spits, and baze closes his eyes. he lets chirrut’s wrist go and turns away.

“it pays enough to make rent, and not much else.” it is a confession, but he holds his ground. “i do what i must so that we may survive.”

“but you throw away your ideals-” chirrut protests, grabbing for baze’s shoulder and baze shakes him off.

“i did not throw away my ideals,” he says angrily, “my ideals were taken from me when the jedi were murdered, when _innocent children_ were murdered, when we were thrown from our home! i find no joy in killing but i’m good at it, and i-” chirrut is shaking. he is not afraid, baze knows, but he knows instead that his husband is overcome with grief. he realizes, suddenly, that in the months since they’d been exiled from the temple they hadn’t spoken about what happened.

he brings his hands, calloused from constant use, to cradle chirrut’s face. thanks the force- no, not the force, he thanks chirrut for not flinching away, or pushing him away. “i...did not mean to...” he doesn’t know what he didn’t mean to do.

as always, chirrut forgives him anyway. “i know that you blame yourself for what happened,” he says, “you could not have saved them all. every clone in the temple was on them, there was nothing you could have done.” he brushes his hand against baze’s cheek, leaves it resting in the juncture between his neck and his shoulder.

“if i’d been less selfish...” baze trails off. chirrut would not blame him if he shed a tear, but he won’t cry. crying is for men who did all they could and still failed. he’s knocked from his thoughts, literally. chirrut hits the center of his chest, to the right of his heart.

“i may not be a jedi, baze malbus, and i may be blind,” he says, “but i know when you aren’t listening to me. do not blame yourself. there was nothing you could have done, even as you try to convince yourself otherwise. i am glad you saved me.” he said. he moved his hands to baze’s hair and used it to pull his head down and kiss him. he smiled, in a way baze knew chirrut probably thought was coy. “don’t cut your hair,” he threads his fingers through it, “i like it better this way.”

“you can’t even see it. and it’s still in my face.” baze grumbles, but with no real irritation in his words. chirrut laughs and pulls him in for another kiss. baze thinks he is joyful, even in the darkest times. chirrut says it’s the force, but baze knows it’s just his nature.

“let us see if i still remember how to braid then, hm?” chirrut says, grinning in a way that makes him look fifteen years younger.

the knotty “braids” don’t come out of his hair for two weeks. baze wears them with pride, and refuses to brush them out.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter @bvstogne , comments r appreciated as are kudos!! i hope you enjoyed this because i know i did! :)


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